


Say it Out Loud

by infiniteeight



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Or maybe Jim and Bones have less, SPOILERS FOR STAR TREK BEYOND, Spock has more emotional intelligence than it seems, The entire first paragraph is spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 05:03:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7561492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infiniteeight/pseuds/infiniteeight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(<b>Spoilers</b> for Star Trek Beyond)</p><p>Spock goes to ask Jim a question, but ends up answering several instead.</p><p>aka</p><p>Spock decides that sometimes, when it comes to his crewmates, respecting their privacy is not the logical approach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say it Out Loud

It takes Spock several days, after the attack on Yorktown, to process everything that has happened and everything that has changed… or not changed. In light of Ambassador Spock’s death, Spock’s decisions--first to leave Starfleet and then _not_ to leave Starfleet--the corresponding impact on his relationship with Nyota, and the entire experience with Krall, he believes that he can be forgiven for not becoming conscious of a strange discrepancy in his captain’s behavior until after Jim’s birthday party.

Once the thought enters his awareness for consideration, Spock finds it difficult to dismiss. Eventually, with Nyota’s encouragement, he locates the captain in the temporary quarters provided for him at Yorktown.

“Spock,” Jim greets him, smiling and stepping back from the door. “Come in. What can I do for you?”

Of course the captain assumes he needs something; Spock prefers to schedule his social interactions. He responds carefully. “I have a question.”

“Sure, have a seat.” Jim waves him to a chair and goes to pour himself a drink. Non-alcoholic, Spock notes. Jim shoots him a quick look and raises the glass. “Drink?”

“No, thank you.” Spock waits until Jim sits as well and waves for him to go on. “Twice now, you have thanked me for saving your life,” Spock says slowly, “in circumstances when Dr. McCoy was both equally significant in the action and present when you expressed your gratitude. And yet you made no such comment to the doctor on either occasion.”

Jim chuckles. “You and Bones must have bonded, Spock, if you’re worried about me hurting his feelings.”

“It is not his feelings I am concerned with,” Spock says, and if that isn’t entirely true, well, the tilt of Jim’s mouth indicates he knows that. “I simply wish to understand why we receive different responses for effectively, if not literally, the same actions.”

“It’s a matter of… larger context.” Jim pauses and sips at his drink. Finally he snorts and shakes his head. “Really, what it comes down to is that if I thanked Bones every time he saved me, I’d never say anything else to the man.”

Spock feels both of his eyebrows rise. “Contrary to the many jests I have overheard, you are not injured nearly that often, and even less so to a life threatening degree.”

Jim offers him a smile, but only a brief one. “I didn’t mean medically, Spock.” He stops and Spock waits, aware that in quieter moments Jim could often be induced to elaborate simply with silence. After a moment he does, indeed, go on. “You can’t get through Starfleet Academy on ego alone,” he says, “but that’s just about all I had going for me when I got on the shuttle. And three years of space exploration takes a lot more out of you than I ever expected. Beginning to end, Bones has been my foundation. When I’m not sure of _anything_ , I’m sure of him.” Jim smiles again, but he’s not smiling at Spock; his eyes are distant, the expression warmer. “He bitches and he complains and he’s right there with me every step of the way. He hates space, but I’ve never had to ask him to be here with me.” Jim’s focus comes back to Spock. “I’m grateful every day for Bones, he’s the single most important person in my life, but it stopped being something I needed to say out loud a long time ago.”

Spock nods slowly and considers this for a minute. Jim has answered one question, but raised another. “I find myself curious why you have never explained to the doctor that you are in love with him.”

Jim pauses with his glass at his lips, then takes a very slow sip of his drink. When he lowers it, he says, “I never said that I was.”

“Nevertheless, it is apparent.”

Jim points an accusing finger at Spock. “You’re a lot more emotion-savvy than you let people think.”

“You are avoiding the question,” Spock says, unmoved.

“You didn’t ask a question,” Jim shoots back. Then he just shakes his head. “Bones doesn’t feel that way about me.”

Spock is startled into bluntness. “But he does.”

It’s Jim’s turn to arch his eyebrows. “And you know this how?”

“I am a touch telepath,” Spock reminds him, “and I have recently spent a considerable amount of time physically leaning on Dr. McCoy under circumstances which rendered emotional tension extremely high and my own degree of mental control very low. I am absolutely certain of the depth and quality of the doctor’s feelings for you.”

Jim stares at him, apparently stunned. It is an interesting quality of humanity, Spock has noticed, that despite lifelong experience with decoding the emotions of those around them, they often overlook or misinterpret those emotions when it matters to them the most. “If Bones is in love with me,” Jim says finally, “why hasn’t he ever said anything?”

“I did not ask,” Spock says dryly. “But I imagine for the same reason you have not: he assumes that you do not feel as he does.”

Jim leans forward, elbows braced on his knees, and stares down at the glass in his hand, idly swirling the last swallow of liquid. “Should I? Say something?”

Spock suspects that most others would immediately respond in the affirmative, judging the mutuality of feelings to be the only relevant consideration. He, however, has an increasing amount of experience in the ways that other responsibilities and needs can impact a romantic relationship, so he takes his time formulating his answer. “There are three primary considerations which lead people to initiate a change in a relationship,” he says finally. “The first is because they wish to more closely link their lives, to be consulted and compromised with on decisions of career or family. But this is not relevant to you; Dr. McCoy has already made it clear that he intends to remain at your side, regardless of the nature of your relationship.” 

Jim looks almost guilty, as illogical as that is; it is Dr. McCoy’s choice. Spock continues. “The second is a desire for greater emotional intimacy, and the third is sexual interest. The question you must answer, therefore, is whether or not you wish either of those the latter two elements to become a part of your relationship with the doctor.”

“The answer to that is obviously yes,” Jim says. Then he quirks an eyebrow. “I was actually just wondering whether there was any chance that saying something could damage my relationship with Bones.”

Spock frowns. Hadn’t he already made McCoy’s commitment clear? “The answer to that is obviously no.”

Jim shakes his head, laughing again. Then he tosses back the last of his drink and stands. He pauses as he sets the glass on the sideboard from which he acquired it. “In that case Spock, I’ll have to say goodnight; there’s another conversation I need to be having.”

Spock stands as well. “Goodnight, Captain.”

Jim leaves, and Spock follows, hastening his steps. When he reaches his own temporary quarters, he sets about locating the captain and doctor on the station’s internal security feeds. It is unquestionably an invasion of privacy, but his crewmates have both demonstrated that they cannot be trusted to say all of the things which require saying. Spock must make sure that there are no further miscommunications.

Once he is alone, it takes a few minutes to locate and access the appropriate security feed. When it loads, displaying the sitting area of the doctor’s Yorktown quarters, Spock discovers that Jim must have been direct in his approach, because they are not talking. Instead, Jim is in McCoy’s lap and they are kissing with sufficient enthusiasm that Spock reaches out to deactivate the feed. Then he pauses. It is possible that the Jim was not direct in his approach, but simply skipped it entirely. Spock should be sure that they have actually spoken.

He waits, mildly uncomfortable at the display of intimacy but unable to rationalize turning off the feed when he has neither gained the confirmation he sought nor been forced into discretion by an escalation of their activities. After several minutes punctuated only by quiet moans and the soft, wet sounds of their mouths meeting and parting and meeting again, they finally pause, foreheads touching, Jim’s hands buried in Leonard’s hair, Leonard’s hands firmly anchoring Jim in his lap.

“Years, Jim,” McCoy says, his voice rough. “Years we could have had this if one of us had just said something.”

Spock can’t help but be relieved that Jim at least said _something_ first.

“Maybe,” Jim allows. “But there’s something about it happening now that feels right, too.”

Leonard is quiet for a moment. “Despite everything, you’ve seemed… lighter the past few days. More at home in your own skin. Did something change?”

Jim smiles. “No. But I’m seeing a lot of things more clearly now.”

“Well, I’m glad that that included seeing how I feel about you,” Leonard says. “Because I’d never have found the courage to say anything myself.”

“You actually have Spock to thank for that,” Jim admits, sheepishly. 

Leonard narrows his eyes at Jim, the expression belied by the way he tugs Jim closer. “I’m _not_ thanking him.”

Spock allows himself a long moment of satisfaction. “Too late,” he tells the oblivious monitor, and blanks it even as Jim displaces Leonard’s scowl with another kiss.

\--End--


End file.
